


The Sacrifice

by MyrrhMyrrh



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Arson, Cult, Gen, Original Character(s), Sacrifice, teenager in over their head, zalgo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrrhMyrrh/pseuds/MyrrhMyrrh
Summary: If a person is lonely enough, they can be convinced to do almost anything if it means they'll be part of something bigger... if it means they'll belong. Even if that something is horrific. But what then?





	The Sacrifice

Tonight was the night.

Alexandra Reynolds, age sixteen, donned her white cloak and went to meet her compatriots. They would tell her what she needed to do, and she would do it for the glory of He Who Waits Behind the Wall. She would release him. She would be the key to unleashing the Nezperdian hive mind on this world, and in the next she would be honored, rewarded above all.

“Okay, you look great,” her leader told her, smiling and straightening the cloak. “Do you have the resolve to carry this through?”

“Yes,” she answered with the fervor of a true zealot.

“Good. Here’s what you have to do: tonight, before the sacrifice, you have to kill those dearest to you, so that you can send them ahead of you and share your reward with them. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she said, less fervently.

“Soak your cloak in their blood. Every inch has to be red with it. Then come to us.”

“Does it need to be dry?” She hoped so. It was gruesome enough without a sopping wet cloak soaking her clothes.

“No, though I suppose if you have to, you can use your dryer.” The leader seemed to ponder it. “That might actually be a good thing, since it will set the blood into the fabric. Yes. Do that.”

She nodded. She could do this. She had to do this. For her family, to release them from this rotten world that rejected her and her siblings just because they were a little different. “Should I go now?”

“There are still a few hours before the ceremony. Go, meditate and prepare yourself.” The cult leader marked her forehead with a dark paste, forming a symbol that most couldn’t bear to look at, much less decipher. It vanished rapidly, sinking into her skin.

 

Alexandra went home, sitting down and setting up her secret shrine to Zalgo. Her parents weren’t home yet, probably out carousing somewhere. Her siblings were in bed. She thought of them; Donovan was six, and Leah was just a baby, not even a full year old yet. She was more like a daughter to Alexandra than a sister, since she was the one that took care of the baby most of the time. They deserved better than this world. She could send them on to share her reward. She could. She had to.

The noise from the living room told her that her parents had gotten home. They must have had an argument, because she heard stomping and then the slamming of their bedroom door. Her father was sleeping on the couch again, she supposed. Well, tonight would be the last night.

She went over to the crib where Leah still slept – it was in her room, because her mother didn’t want to deal with changing and feeding during the night – and pet her hair gently. “You’re first, baby girl. I don’t want you upset by what comes next.” She took a pillow and put it over the baby’s head, pressing down. Tears dripped onto it from the tip of her nose as the child went still, but she stayed like that for another minute or two just to be sure she’d properly smothered her sister.

Next was Donovan. She snuck silently into his room and bit her lip. This was for his own good. Once again, she put a pillow over her sibling’s face and held it until she was sure they were dead. Afterward, she closed the door and held the little boy’s body, rocking him and giving herself a minute to just cry. “It’s for your own good, baby bro… We can share the reward. I’ll see you soon, okay?” That was the hard part out of the way. When she pulled herself together, she went out to the living room. It stank of alcohol and cigars. She loved her dad despite his vices, though, so she wanted him to come along. When he was sober, he was a sweet man.

She took one of the curtain ties and slipped it carefully around the sleeping man’s throat, then put her knee in his back and pulled with all her might. He woke, making desperate choking noises, but he was too intoxicated to dislodge her. It wasn’t long before he was dead as well.

This was going well… too well. Alex couldn’t believe it. There was just her mother left. She sighed, deciding that since the door was locked, she’d do the rest first. She dragged her father’s body to the bathroom and stopped up the tub, then took the ceremonial dagger she’d been given upon initiation and cut his throat deeply to start the blood draining into the tub. She made several other cuts so that it would drain faster, then went to get Donovan’s body. She lay it on the tiles before going to get some rope from the garage. She tied it around the little boy’s ankles and hauled him – his body, not him, she reminded herself – up using the pipe that led to the shower head and the curtain rod for support. She tied the rope around the toilet and cut Donovan open to drain his blood as well. It was gruesome, but the tub was filling slowly. There wasn’t enough to fully submerge her cloak, but there would be soon.

She finally brought Leah’s body in. Alex couldn’t look as she made the cut on the baby’s body, only cry as she stared at the ceiling and held her little sister above the tub to drain the blood. After she deemed it finished she took the body back to the crib and wrapped it gently in a blanket, leaving flowers she’d picked on the way home all around the bundle.  
Honestly, the only reason she was including her neglectful mother was that her father loved the woman. She felt very little as she picked the lock to the room, creeping in to find her mother… reading. Dammit. She was supposed to be asleep, but at least she didn't seem to notice her daughter creeping into the room. Finally, Alexandra stood up, and her mother looked up.

“How did you get in here?”

“You forgot to lock your door.”

“I could have sworn… Well, what do you want? And what is that you’re wearing?”

“I’m going to be a sacrifice. So are you.” She didn’t seem particularly upset about either statement.

“What-?” the woman began, but she was cut off by her daughter, who had lunged at her and wrapped her hands around her throat. She tried to scream, clawed Alex’s face and arms, but Alex didn’t let go. She took a knee to the stomach but held on. For the glory of Zalgo. She knew her mother was finally dead when the scent of evacuation hit her. She hadn’t noticed it with the others, but she thought it fit the dead woman under her. The teenager didn’t take nearly as much care with this corpse, dragging it by the feet and letting the head bounce against multiple obstacles. She took Donovan down and brought him back to his bed, wrapping him in his sheets as though they were a shroud, and placed flowers around the pillow where his head lay. There was almost enough blood now, so she went back to the bathroom and hauled her mother’s corpse up with a great deal more difficulty than she’d had with her little brother. She slit her mother’s throat, stabbed into the space between the collarbone and the shoulder blade on either side, and sat while the blood drained. Not one drop was wasted. After a few minutes, she shifted her father’s body in such a way that it would drain better as well. Time was ticking away, and she began to get antsy. The bodies were cooling, the ceremony was drawing closer. Finally, there was enough blood, and she took her cloak off. She submerged it in the crimson liquid, soaking it thoroughly before carrying it, still dripping, to the dryer and turning it on high. A half hour should be enough. After that, she would have an hour more to get where she needed to be. There was no going back; her family was dead, just as Zalgo required. She would become his Key and free him.

The dryer dinged, and a very anxious Alexandra took the cloak out. It was a stiff, deep brownish-red now, and she hung it up to beat it like a rug. When she died, she wanted it to be in something soft. She wasted fifteen minutes that way before realizing once again that time was ticking away and donning the cloak hurriedly. She raced out the door and down the street, making sure not to be seen. She’d surely be stopped, looking as she did. Her cheek hurt, her arms hurt, her stomach hurt, and her own blood was caked on the wounds her mom had inflicted, but that wouldn’t matter soon.

The whole cult was waiting for her when she arrived, and she was welcomed with much celebration. She was cleansed, and they feasted while the leader drew the circle and set up the altar. Black candles lit the area, and with a full stomach and peace in her heart, Alexandra lay down on the altar, ready to rejoin her family.

 

As soon as her back touched the altar, something went wrong. Her mind shot out of her body as the first words of Zalgo’s Invocation were sung by the cult, and visions assaulted her.  
Her brother was a twisted beast, hulking and screeching and barely recognizable. A thrall made of nightmares and rotting flesh. Her sister crawled along with a gurgling hiss, entrails dragging behind her. Only her upper half existed, the lower portion ripped away. Her parents loomed over her, sharing Leah’s lower half like a roast chicken, blood and viscera dropping as they ravaged the small limbs with teeth that were too sharp.

And then… There he was. Zalgo. The Nezperdian hive mind of chaos, He Who Waits Behind the Wall. Her mind couldn’t process it all, but one thing filtered through as it all unraveled – they had lied. The cult she had trusted in, the being she had believed in so vehemently… none of it was true. Zalgo was a horror without parallel, something she couldn’t unleash. He must never be released. His mouths spoke incessantly, unweaving her from the inside. She screamed, and felt something snap.

Her mind jolted back into her body as the sacrificial knife began to descend, but her arm stretched out automatically and stopped it, the blade piercing her hand all the way through.

“Ȩ͚͍͎̫̖̭̳͜͠t̨͖͔̩̣͙̝̪̻̝̗̘̖̘̫̦͔̩̱͜ ͟͏̟̱͔̬̜̯̳͔͚̲͟͢a͟͏̛̱̬̻͎͖̞̤̩̕b̷̶̢͎̫̘͕̘̱̮̫͎̳̦̣̱̫̞̱i͉̰͕̫̝̰̭̱͘͜͠ͅe̵̷̠͈̹͚͕͎̣r̷̡͔͕̘͖͉̞͟͟ͅų̸̷̶̱̗͖̖̳̲̞͙̩̲̪̬̳͙̗̼̜̻n̴̡̺̜͍̞͎͚͉̖̭̤̲͎̜͖t̷̺͈͍͔͇̕͢͠!̨҉͉̗̣̥͍̜̘̘͇͙̮͇̖̼̟͉͢͠ͅͅ ” she screamed, throwing the cult leader back, and drew the knife from the wound.

 

She had never been taught any magic, but suddenly she knew so much. So terribly, terribly much. She lunged and slashed, a whirl of motion as all the cultists who had been her friends surrounded her and tried to subdue her. She was pierced and slashed repeatedly – chest, arms, one eye - but they were no match in the end.

“Ą̛̺͖̘͓̥̺̲̰d̵̥̳͙̥̰̙̗͝ͅơ̵̻̰̥͙̰̜͙̲͚̟̥̥̖̤̞͇̙l̴͔̩̩̗͖̻̣̼̤͘̕ę̵͔͔͚͔̣̻̻͓̼̝̹̹b̴͡҉̜̭̦̣̭̪̤͚͎̣̘i҉̷̡͖̤̰̥̲̙̼̥̫͔̥̮̕t͏̷̪̰̹͙̲̫̪̺͈̟̭̠̥̮̦q̨̨̻̘̫͚̞̙̩̥̦̫̞͈͎̙̪̝͝ͅu̟͍̲̦̦̗̖̯͈͈͈͔͢͢e̴̵̙͔̤̺͕!̕͏̶̩̤̤͎̰͎̺ “ she shouted, and one burst into flames. “G̸̶̙̥͔͚̕l̞͉̣̜̗͕̝̖͠ạ̵̼̹̭̭̤̥̗̕c̨̭̝̭͇͈͖̬͇̻̗͖̗̼̥̯͡ͅi̶̡̙̥̺̬e̛͢҉̶͔̤̼̙̜͟n̵͇̻̮̤̮͍͇̭̝͙̜͢͞ț̦̟͎͘͜͟͞ͅu͏̧̼͈͎͙̯͙̘̠̹͝͝r̷̦̝̜̝̖̯͈̪͜͟͢!͢͞͏̠͕̜̣̞͈̭̘ ̨̬̤̯͉͔̤̞̖̣͔͝F̧̢͝͏̻̪̣̦̻̘̦͚̥͈͕r̭̫͙̹̕̕͝a̡̻̟̖̗̥̖̹̠̥̟͉͢͠͡͝n͏̷͖̩̥̝̪͇͍̹̜͘g͏̲͎̭̪͓̣̮̰͘͠ͅe̴̶̡͍̼͔̪̠̦͔̟̹̪̻̫ṋ̷̗̣̦̟̮̰̝͡͞d̷̷̡̲̦̤͙̩͍͔͓͉̦͍͠͡ͅi̷͇̝̩!̧͚̖̬̞͚͉̝͉͚͓̬͕̣̠͍͈̝͙ͅ”

 

Another froze and shattered. One by one, they died horribly, and by the final one, she was too exhausted to shout. She finished him off by stabbing him over and over and over until he had long since stopped moving. She needed to go… needed to recover. Needed to begin combatting Zalgo, purifying this world of his influence. She managed to staunch the worst of the bleeding before she stood up, but it made her so lightheaded that she fell backwards. She had no idea how long she lay in a daze before she could gather herself again. Maybe she had fainted. She was in incredible pain, but her feverish determination to resist Zalgo propelled her as she searched the corpses, taking what she needed from them. Credit cards, cash, anything useful. She got up slower this time and vanished into the woods of the mountain.

A few weeks later, a young woman in a brownish-red cloak stood in a house, smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper.

 

 

**ENTIRE FAMILY SLAUGHTERED AND DRAINED**

  
Several weeks ago, the police were called to the Reynolds home in Woodland Heights when neighbors found a gruesome display. The door had been left slightly ajar, and next door neighbors Anna and Fred Barnaby noticed on their way to work. Mrs. Barnaby decided to investigate.  
“It was terrible,” she said tearfully during her interview. “John and Maggie were in the bathroom… Maggie was just hanging there, you know? Upside down above the tub, with her neck cut wide open.” Mrs. Barnaby broke down as she recounted the scene. She continued by describing the way the children were wrapped, as though in death shrouds, with blood seeping through what appeared to be the vicinity of the neck. The bathtub contained enough blood to account for all four bodies: Magdaline Reynolds, her husband Johnathan, their son Donovan, and their youngest daughter Leah. So then, why the blood trail to the dryer? Why the caked blood inside? Police have yet to discover the reason.  
The eldest daughter is thought to have been involved in some sort of cult…

 

 

She tossed the newspaper in the trash without reading the rest. She knew exactly what happened. Patting the bound homeowners on their heads, she let out a smoky sigh. “Don’t be afraid. You’ll be made pure soon.” Ignoring their pleas, she lit another cigarette with the butt of that one before putting it out on her arm with a hiss of pain. She settled the cigarette in a matchbook, letting it burn down a little before setting it on a damp magnesium strip which led to a pile of thermite on an exposed gas line. She walked out the door, not casting a single glance over her shoulder. Ten minutes later, on a nearby rooftop, she counted the seconds. Finally, the house exploded in a massive conflagration and she smiled at having successfully redeemed them.

After all, fire purifies.


End file.
